Kyle Korver runs through the list of things that zoom through his mind before he flicks his wrist and hears a splash. In order for him to get there, everything has to be in sync. It’s more than just loading and aiming for that sweet spot just behind the front rim. He points to his feet and his hips, then his knees.

How is his core aligned when he catches the ball rolling off a screen? Are his shoulders square? Is his right elbow too tucked in or not enough? What about his guide hand? Is he peeling off too quickly, forcing his record-setting right arm to do too much work in this aesthetically-precise process?

This is what you get when you ask Kyle Korver to explain how, exactly, he’s managed to do what he’s done for so long, and why, nearing the age of 38, he remains timeless in a league that asks more and more of its players each year. He is the scientist of the shot. His subject matter is searching for something he’ll never manage to find, but it’s something he seeks every day, nonetheless.

It’s a quest for perfection, making sure that when a play is called for No. 26, he’s going to show off that patented delivery, the one that basketball junkies on YouTube have spent hours breaking down into mini-explainer videos for fans and would-be hoopers who, like all of us, wonder how Korver rises off the hardwood with ease and can, in a flash, change the complexion of a game by catching fire.

“Just shooting is boring,” he said like he’s answered these questions a million times before.

Every miss has a physical reason. Every one. It’s not a hand in the face. And Korver has to know why. Because identifying even the slightest miscue as he’s weaving through opponents and teammates to find a bit of daylight leads to tinkering. That leads to fixing. And that’s how in your 16th season after 5,315 3-point attempts, you’ve managed to have drained over 43 percent of those attempts. That is how, going into Friday’s game against Korver’s old team, the Cleveland Cavaliers, there are 2,293 regular-season 3’s that have graced the net on his behalf. Korver recently moved to fourth place all-time in NBA history in 3-pointers made: A wide-open 3 that he did not celebrate. He turned around, shuffled down court and found his man.

It takes him a while to think about the accomplishment, because his mind runs back, all the way back to coming into the league and lining up across guys like Ray Allen and Reggie Miller. Those were the guys Korver’s coaches once made him study, to watch how they freed themselves for that split second amount of time, just enough to fire away and hit from distance. He errs on not enjoying the moment, he said, but he wants to. There is a time and place for reflection of his accolades, but it takes a stranger asking him to dig deep and contemplate. Yes, it makes him smile to think about everything since 2003. But he still has a job to do. More 3’s to hit. More open space to discover.

“That’s how I am in life,” he said. “I’m trying to find the balance.”

And, on a daily basis, he has to find his shot before tip-off.

Finding it

There is no daily shot count. There is no daily make count, either. He hasn’t tracked his makes in a row since high school. It became too work-like, he said. Data entry isn’t for everyone. Korver’s never shot more than 100 free throws in a row, because as he explains, “once you get to 100, why keep going?”

What he must do every day is find his shot. As elementary as it sounds, it’s very real to Korver. He’ll go down as one of the best long-range shooters the league has ever seen, but he still identifies one or two aspects of his release or load time or bounce off the floor (the list just keeps going) in order to make sure he’ll make more than he’ll miss when it matters most. It’s a challenge to himself, but also a requirement to put his mind at ease before a game.

“I want to get to the point every day where it’s like, ‘OK, I found it, it feels right,’” he said. “I’m not just making them, but I know why I’m making them. It’s really important to me, to know that if I do this and that, I believe the ball is going to go in.”

It doesn’t take hours to find it. Not when you’re Korver. But he does spend every single day nitpicking his own unique ability. It’s why he’s become what he’s become, a straightforward specialist who every team must try and neutralize, or else Korver gets rolling, and even at 37, it’s still quite the sight to see.

“You talk about a perfectionist,” said Oregon coach Dana Altman, who coached Korver at Creighton for four years. “Yes, it was always a good-looking shot, but I’ve been so impressed with the way he’s continued to develop. He’s so disciplined with his footwork and his balance and his high release and his quick release.”

There is no fear of letting loose. And, truthfully, there never has been. There were some initial moments of brief hesitation early in his career, said Korver’s uncle, Kris Korver, but that soon waned once Allen Iverson made sure to tell the then shaggy-haired youngster to shoot and just keep shooting during their time in Philadelphia. Last year, former teammate LeBron James said Korver can, “dictate a defense by himself just because of his energy and movement.”

“Kyle’s like the movie ‘Sniper,’” said Kris Korver, who coaches at NAIA Northwestern College in Iowa. “He’s got this gift. He’s showcasing that gift.”

The shot wouldn’t be the shot without all the work behind the scenes. Korver said he puts in more work in the weight room and in various training exercises than he does dialing in from beyond the arc. He understands he has to be be mechanically-sound, sure, but then once he’s found it, he has to go home. And try not to think about hitting nothing but twine. This late in his career, his mechanics aren’t ever going to wander too far off, but if they do, he knows why.

“Most people have bad shooting spells when their body is not right,” he said.

Back in Utah for a second go, he’s found it. And it’s on full display.

The game-changer

Alone in a high school gym in Santa Barbara, Calif., Korver bounced a ball and heard the continuous echo it created. There’s nothing like being alone on a basketball court, he said. That’s as close to tranquility as he gets. This was last summer. Korver wasn’t sure he wanted to keep playing. He was burned out. A few months earlier, his younger brother, Kirk, passed away after a sudden illness, leaving the family stunned and heartbroken.

At a crossroads, Korver needed an answer. So there he was, solo in the gym, hoisting up shots. He left feeling different. He could’ve walked away. His name would still be in record books, no matter what. Instead, he chose to keep going. To keep shooting. In late November, the Jazz front office brought him back to Utah. In 24 games with the Jazz this year, Korver has already made 55 3’s. His ability has impacted the team’s turnaround as the Jazz continue to rise up the clustered Western Conference standings.

“I think the way that our team has kind of embraced his skillset, where we’re obviously trying to do things for him, whether it be out of a timeout or a couple plays and sets that we’ve put in for him,” Jazz coach Quin Snyder said. “They’re finding him in the flow of the game. That tells you the level of respect that guys have.”

Mark Core rarely — if ever — tunes into watch the NBA regular season. Once the postseason rolls around, he’ll carve out some time. And so often he sees the man who was once a scrawny high schooler, who could light up the scoreboard. Core, Korver’s high school coach at Pella High in Iowa, said records and shots made are great, but he knows that Korver’s disposition radiates throughout any locker room. And he’s not surprised it’s doing so again in Utah.

“I realize that putting the ball in the hole does make things easier,” Core said, “but getting the team on the same page, more focused, closer, more resilient, to me those are the things where he adds the most value. He did it in high school and there’s no doubt in my mind he’s still doing it today.”

It’s no coincidence, either, that Korver really started to heat up when a bit of normalcy was restored. His wife, Juliet, and their three young children, finally made the move to back to Utah during Christmas week.

“There’s a cost on the family side to keep on playing — it’s a real thing,” Korver said. “When my family’s good, I play significantly better.”

To the untrained eye, the old shooter’s shot looks just as immaculate as it did a decade ago in Salt Lake, back when Korver was burning up the nets in his first stint as a Jazzman. But he’s endlessly seeking refinement. Korver said he still believes his shot changes month to month. He admits it might be in his head, too.

“I think about it all day long,” he said. “It will just pop in my head or, yes, sometimes it wakes me up.”